Grandma's blue bowl

"He knoweth the way that I take and when He hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold" (Job 23:10)

I thought it had belonged to my Grandma Nesmith.

Well, actually it did belong to my Grandma Nesmith.

What I didn't remember was that she got it from her mother, Marianna Michau Mercer and she got it from her mother, Mary Elizabeth Cook  Michau.

Until recently, I just thought it was Grandma's blue bowl.  I knew it had survived a fire at my parents' home in 1977 and then I was reminded it also survived a fire in South Carolina many years ago.

It was on a shelf in my parents home until my mother moved away -- and she thought I should have it so it now resides with me.  That means I am the fifth generation owner.

It has a lot of character, don't you think?

It's blue, but do you see the gold trim.  Look carefully.

And do you see that the pedestal is broken?

Fortunately, it still stands.

Somehow that bowl is a picture of life...my life to be exact.

There have been times when I felt wobbly - like part of me was broken.

There are times when I feel blue.

And yet. . .

It is a reminder to me of these words:

Words that were given to me on my 70th birthday by my lifelong friend and cousin, Bonnie Smith Allen (we share Great Grandma Mercer and thus Great, Great Grandma Michau).  We know that our grandmothers (hers - Florence and mine,  Pauline) were great women....and we appreciate that part of our heritage. And let me be quick to acknowledge - lots of women - great women - join us - my aunts, their aunts and cousins.  The list could go on an on! And somewhere in that family history is that one of our ancestors swam the English channel ( I think that's right - it's a part of the LORE that we have all heard).

So what happens to the bowl next?  It stays on my shelf until I am gone and then the two great women who call me mom (Becca and Renee) can determine whose shelf on which it gets to stand.  And then one of their daughters will inherit it.  Unlike a family recipe that many can share, there is sadly but one bowl.

In the meantime, it is a constant reminder to me of our heritage...of the hard times and good, the laughter and tears, and the fact that all of us know -- when He hath tried me, we shall come forth as gold!

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

A Cornucopia of Emotions

This is my little cornucopia.  It is far different from the beautiful one of my childhood.  My Grandma Nesmith had been a florist and she had a real knack for arranging flowers - and at Thanksgiving - fruits and vegetables.

I have always loved November.

I love the change of colors in our surroundings.  I know I live in Florida and there are not that many changes, but I love driving toward San Marco and enjoying the vibrant color of the golden rain trees.

I like the food that we enjoy - especially the combination of cranberries and turkey,

I enjoy the celebration of Veteran's Day.  If my daddy instilled anything in us more than his love for the Florida Gators it was his love for our country.  He didn't think he needed to install a love for God or our mother.  He just expected that to be a part of who we are!

And I absolutely love the fact that I became a mother in November.  First on November 26, 1971, when Rebecca Lynn was born.  I knew from the first time I held her that she would be Becca.  I brought her home from the hospital and she became my sounding board.  Poor baby - the things she heard from her mother's lips.

Three years after that I heard the words "what's your first child?" And when I answered a little girl, the doctor said: "And now you have two".  And what a  joy that second little girl, Paula Renee, (11/17/74) has always been.  Her ears have also heard much from me.

Those girls (Becca and Renee) come from a long line of great women - some we remember especially in November.  As it would happen, Becca was born on my Grandma Nesmith's birthday.  She would have been 70 that day, had she not gone to Heaven just a few months prior.  Another great woman was born in November. Amanda Gentry (11/11/01), was the mother of Margeret Parker who was my first mother in law - She was a great woman - who raised a good son.

Four of my dearest friends, Linda Peppers Gurganious, Laurie Lemminn, Kathy McAlpin and Virginia Jeffries Pillsbury celebrate their birthdays in November. Each of these women have been a blessing in my life.

So those are happy emotions.

There is also a very scary one.  Tray was 2 and a half when he was impatient to get the hot chocolate that I foolishly put in a paper cup and told him to wait...The burns on his little leg were horrible.  And as we drove to the hospital he and I were both so scared.  I remember him saying "sing, momma" and he would try to sing "Jesus Loves Me" and the theme song to McDonald's  "Nobody can do it..".
That was 38 Thanksgivings ago.  Today he has a very small scar (or that's what he's told me).  But it's certainly included in my cornucopia of emotions.

And then there' s sad one.

It was a lovely November day.  A mid-afternoon phone call from my husband, Rich, indicated that he didn't feel well.  Two hours later I heard an emergency room physician tell me that my husband "did not survive".  We had been married 8 months and 4 days.  I was devastated.  We were planning a great life of joy and happiness together and he was dead just 10 days shy of his 49th birthday.

That was 19 years ago.

Happy Thanksgivings and painful ones.  Even the one that includes the passing of Margaret Parker when my children and I went to tell her goodbye.  That day included my parents and some other family members enjoying a turkey breast in a park in Georgia as we traveled to North Carolina on Thanksgiving Day.

The important thing remains - that love for God that my parents assumed we would inherit is still a part of who I am.

I hope that never changes.

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

No bless your hearts

"He needs a constant."

Those were my words when my son, Tray, was a pre-teen.  I think you could also say those words were my prayer. A bit of a selfish prayer I think.  Because what I was really praying for was to have a man in my life.

It was about that time that I became friends with a lovely young woman named Kathy McCalpin.  We were both in a singles organization.  Kathy loved to laugh and shared her daughter, Amanda, with my children and me.  We enjoyed doing things together.

And Kathy was crazy about Tray - she laughed at everything he said and always told our other friends how cute and adorable my youngest child was.

And suddenly it dawned on me.  Kathy could be the fluff in Tray's life, and I was the constant.  I was the one who made sure he did his homework, brushed his teeth, was nice to his sisters.  When I felt like I had to be strict, Kathy didn't have to.

Both of us were necessary.

I recently told my daughter Renee about a time in my life that I have remembered with sadness.

Tray was playing in Little League ALL STAR baseball game.  His sisters and I had been to all the games..  Their dad lives in another state and it was very rare for him to be at a game. (Please note - I'm not trying to throw anyone under the bus - it's just a fact).

However, this particular game was the exception.

Our team was losing by one run.  Tray was up, got on base and was credited for an RBI when one of his teammates tied the score.  And then he stole second and probably third (he was "bad" about that).  Another base hit - and Tray crossed the plate.

Our team won the game.

And Tray came off the field with these words "Where's my dad?"  I was appalled.  I had been sitting in the stands watching him play ball all summer.  And he wanted to see his dad?

Renee had no "bless your hearts" for me.

" Mom," she said, "Tray knew you would be there.  You were always there."

Hum-I was the constant.

I love it when my children teach me something  (most of the time).

I don't think I ever to ask the Lord to make me the constant in my children's lives as we embarked upon our time as a single parent family.  However, as I look back, I am grateful that I could fill that role.

And I've been reminded of the fact that I have a constant in my life as well.  I remember a song from youth group - "Yesterday, Today, Forever, Jesus is the same;  All may change, but Jesus never Jesus is the same" (Hebrews 13:8).

I'll never try to convince anyone that I was a perfect parent (or that I will ever achieve that status). What I am convinced of is that I know first of all - that God my Heavenly Father is the perfect parent and that He is my constant.

Which makes me think that I can hear my grandma Nesmith Singing - Constantly Abiding.

I love memories!

Gnarled branches in a tree

The doorbell rang and a neighbor invited me to come out to the street.

She had been walking her dog, looked up and saw this:

One more result of Hurricane Irma.

It seems the aftermath continues.

It's hard to see in a photo taken by a phone but one limb is split and hanging by what looks like splinters.  At least that's how it looks from the ground.  The leaves around it are dead.  When it drops it's going to be a mess.

"You need to call someone", the neighbor said.  "It's going to fall and hit the corner of your house."

The only thing is - this tree is not in my yard.  Therefore at this time, it is not my responsibility. Until those branches that are holding on by a thread come crashing down.

I overreacted (surprise, surprise)

I did what I always do ... I called my son.  He's slammed with work "People whose houses are already damaged - not those who might have an issue."

And then I prayed (I know why didn't I do that first?).

And the answer came - I was reminded that the tree is not in my yard.  It is not my responsibility.  I should not do anything -- except tell my neighbor - the one whose front yard boasts that pretty tree. 

I've been trying not to be a "tend to it",  but sometimes I have no choice.  So, I showed the gnarled limb to my neighbor who was very appreciative as she said: "I'll call my tree man".

One of these days I might learn just to let things happen without getting myself into a panic.

"Be still and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10).

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

Locked gates

      As Hurricane Irma approached and preparations were being made, I knew that one of the first things to close would be Walter Jones Historical Park where the Mandarin Museum is.  My task was to notify those volunteers who would be serving on September 9 and tell them not to report for duty on that Saturday.

     As we began to hunker down, I heard that the City of Jacksonville was going to send workers to board the windows on the historic St. Joseph's Mission Schoolhouse for African American Children.

     And I knew that the gate to the park would be locked.

     The storm came.  Leaves, limbs and some trees fell to the ground inside the park.  It was not a pretty sight.  There was no power.  The gates remained locked. The Museum would not open on September 16.

     On Monday, September 18, Gabrielle Dempsey, the Facilities Chair on the Museum Board, assessed the situation.  The representative from the City said it should be cleared for us to go in and complete the cleanup by Thursday.  We have a big day planned for the 23rd.

     I sent a message to our volunteers.  We would have a work day on Thursday.  We arrived.  The gate was still locked.  so another message went out.

     We came back on Friday and the gate was still locked.

     We were a bit distressed.  It looked okay.

     But what could we not see?

     Maybe snakes, maybe limbs that would be the culprit causing a fall, maybe dirty water that had made its way up from the river.

     Surely there was a reason - even when we couldn't see it.

     I remembered 25 years ago when my parents were about to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary.  My Aunt Carolyn had an apartment adjacent to the dining room in our home.  My mother always just walked in without knocking.

     One day as she did that, she was shooed away. There seemed to be a party going on. She could not imagine.  Her feelings were really hurt.

     Until the day of their anniversary arrived.  My mother opened Aunt Carolyn's gift - a beautiful quilt with nine names embroidered (hers and daddy's; the four of us and our children.  Dan and Meg had not yet been born). My aunt and her friends obviously had something to "hide".

     Sometimes it's good not to know what's behind a locked door - or fence.

     Earlier today (9/22) we learned that the gate would be open on Saturday and we should proceed with "Smithsonian Museum Day Live" when all of our park's buildings will be open, the Maple Leaf divers will be aboard, the World War I Exhibit and many pieces of art that was done by Mandarin artisans available for the public to enjoy.  All this at no charge to our guests.  Of course, the frogman will be around - and there will be frogs and turtles for sale.   

     I will not be the one who checks for snakes.  It is my job to get the volunteers!

" For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known," (I Corinthians 13:12).

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

Aunt Thelma at the piano

Hurricane Irma approaches Florida.  My South Florida children are evacuating today.  My aunt Beth who lives at Crescent Beach will be on the way to Georgia soon and I'm bringing my mother to stay with me for a couple of days.  Lots of preparation is the order of the day.

Early this morning as I began to make my own preparations, I was reminded of one of my mother's childhood memories - something she often shared with us.

Mother's family lived in an old farm house that had been built in 1888.  My grandparents purchased it sometime in the 1930's.  From that time until my parents sold it in 1996, it held many memories for our family.

For a long time, we have affectionately called it the Big House.  And one thing that we all appreciated was the sound of the rain on the tin roof.

The sound of the rain was one thing.  Storms that were accompanied by flashes of lightning and the sound of thunder did not bring that same sense of peace.

Terror might be a better word.

At least to my mother's sister, Thelma.

"Every time there was a storm, we could find  Thelma sitting at the piano playing hymns", mother has said.

My guess is that all five sisters and their older brother joined in.

I thought of that this morning as the news of Hurricane Irma pelted any electronic device imaginable from television to radio to Facebook and Twitter.  Not to mention - every conversation was about it.

While I may not be terrified today, I have been remembering some words from Scripture and some of the songs of my childhood.  "With Christ in the Vessel, we can smile at the storm"; (composer unknown)  and "Till the storm passes over, till the thunder sounds no more; Till the clouds roll forever from the sky, Hold me fast, let me stand in the hollow of Thy hand Keep me safe till the storm passes by" (Mosey Lister).

And the words from Scripture:

And he (Jesus) arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be  still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm."  Mark 4:39

What this says to me is that although we are so unsure of the weather (just as we are often unsure of the path of our lives), there can still be peace in the midst of the storm.  I don't have a piano.  I do have Pandora.  And you can be sure I'm listening and singing those same songs that Aunt Thelma played!

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows

Did I forget?

I make a big deal out of anniversaries.

One passed recently, and I ignored it.

Well, that's because it really wasn't an anniversary.  Ray Parker and I married on Saturday, August 5, 1967.  Correct - we would have just had our 50th had the marriage survived.

Of course, it did not.

Fortunately, the friendship did.

And more than that the three children who were born from our union and their children are my absolute heart's delight.

They have taught me so much - that I really don't want to forget.

Raymond Lee Parker, III was born on August 10, 1977.  That means he just turned 40.  When I recognized his birthday on Facebook, I said that he has brought much joy and opportunities to trust the Lord

Did I mean he was a difficult child to raise?  No more difficult than any little boy who was raised in an all female household.  Fortunately, there were uncles, cousins and most of all a granddaddy who helped.

But here's why it was an opportunity to trust the Lord.

My girls were born within a few hours of our arrival at the hospital.  My recovery was rapid.  I expected that with my third child.  However, after 12 hours of labor, when his heart rate began to slow down, a decision was made.  A C-Section was performed.

I woke up to a thick bandage across my abdomen and heard  "We have a little boy."

And then I heard -"there are some issues.  They have taken him to pediatric intensive care."

Oh, my.

And then a nurse told me - you have an infection.  You can't leave your bed.

Four days later because of the circumstances, I finally went to see my little boy.

It was very strange.

I felt like I was just looking at a nursery full of little babies.  I felt no emotion.

Back in my bed, I tried to pray,  It seemed my prayers were bouncing off the ceiling.

I slept.

I dreamt.

An angel came - and said it's okay to love him - if you lose him - God will give you the grace to bear it.

The next time I saw my baby I could not stop the tears.

There were many times in his infancy and as a toddler that trips to the hospital were required. He was very sick as a kindergartener.  There was always something.

I love to journal.  Had I been a journaler when Tray was born, I'd have written of the fear I felt on August 14 and the joy I felt on the very next day.  When I journaled about his 40th birthday my words expressed my gratitude - he not only survived he thrived.  And continues to.

And about ignoring that anniversary (at least on Facebook).

A friend reminded me recently that when there is the disappointment, it's good to see the positive.  I couldn't see any positive when my marriage ended.  Even though I knew lots of scripture, I could claim.  It still seemed like such a disaster.

35 years later, I can see so much good that came from all that pain.

One example is that this week is the birthday of the little girl I call Effervescent.  She came to us (along with her brothers) by way of adoption.  The way I see it - if my children and I had not moved to Florida 35 year ago - then Becca would not have met and married Dale - and they would never have met these children who really needed a home.

What I really don't want to forget - to give God the glory for all that has happened in my life!

May your life be filled with enough sunshine

to make you appreciate the shadows